


Fate Granted

by Flipdarkchill



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1940s, Childhood, Childhood Friends, Eventual Romance, Hogwarts, Innocent Harry, Knights of Walpurgis, M/M, Manipulative Tom Riddle, Mystery, Possessive Tom Riddle, Time Travel, Wool's Orphanage (Harry Potter), Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2019-09-20 00:28:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17012046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flipdarkchill/pseuds/Flipdarkchill
Summary: When a young Tom Riddle demands a friend in the middle of the night, he did not truly expect anything to happen. At least, not right away....





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this is my first work on this site. I'm a bit away at the moment, so I can only write sometimes, but I wanted to post it so I can write and get some feedback. I'll update whenever I can. I love this pairing because its so cute, so I wanted to write my own. Hopefully it turns out okay... and sorry if I make any mistakes with the timeline, it's been a while since I've read the books, I'm mostly going off whatever I remember.

 

October, 1933

           He knew what it _was._ And he knew what it looked like too, if Amy Benson’s hoard of female playmates was anything to go by. But Tom Riddle did not need _it_. He had managed just fine on his own thus far- besides, he could talk to snakes, and what more did one need? So as Tom reassured himself for the thousandth time that night, while he channeled his power into this single, irrational desire, he was not asking for a _friend_ at all; no, he was merely testing the limit of his powers, and the full extent of what his gift could grant.

          Yes, for Tom could make things move at will. He could make the animals do what he wanted. Even more recently, he discovered he could cause others pain if they hurt or annoyed him. But Tom wanted to find out just how far his power could go… just how far he could push himself, especially if he wanted something that wasn’t immediately within his grasp. So no, it wasn’t as though Tom actually _wanted_ someone to be his friend. He didn’t actually _want_ anyone to talk to, share his bedroom with, or, God forbid, someone to actually _play_ with outside. No. Tom had long ago realized how pathetic it was to rely on anyone, least of all something as demeaning as friends. No, Tom was merely curious as to whether he could have a person to be his friend, whether or not he could find someone who was, presumably, compatible with himself, and then bring them to him—yes, and surely that was the only reason he was even asking for _it_ in the first place.

          It was quite a shock when something actually happened. Not that Tom didn’t believe his powers would work; on the contrary, he just didn’t expect anything to happen quite so soon…or so dramatically either. He might have expected another orphan to be dropped off in the coming days, or perhaps an existing orphan he had not already scared away would come to his side the next morning… to be honest, Tom wasn’t quite sure what he had expected his power to do with such an ambiguous request. Therefore, it was quite a startling experience to see a blinding flash of white light sweep through his room, and then a child no older than himself drop softly at the end of his bed.

          Sitting there gaping was slightly unbecoming of Tom, so he closed his mouth, and after a few moments of observation in a tense, quiet excitement, a small smirk appeared on his lips. It actually  _worked_. His power had actually granted him a _person_. Unlikely and impossible as it first seemed, it had taken an actual boy, presumably from his home and away from his family, and handed him, quite literally, over to Tom.

          After a few more moments of shock and staring, and when he was sure the other boy was still asleep, Tom examined the strange child who had appeared before him, curled up in a tiny ball at Tom’s feet. He was a scrawny child, small and pale, with striking black hair that was half wild and sticking up in all directions. He also noticed he was wearing clothes far too big for him and wondered whether it was a personal choice or some kind of special sleepwear. He didn’t snore, for which Tom was thankful of. But as he watched the boy sleeping, he noticed he seemed to be dreaming, curling on tighter and shivering, occasionally gasping for air.

          As Tom watched in mild fascination, his thoughts drifted to how he should approach the situation. Convincing Mrs. Cole to take in another boy would not be an issue. Tom’s room was still lacking a roommate, after all, and if he played his cards right, he was sure he could convince the old hag that one more boy wouldn’t make too much of a difference.

         The real problem was what to tell the _boy._ Would he protest? Would he put up a fight and want to go back home? Should he tell the child straightaway that he was going to live in an orphanage now, and that he really had no choice since Tom had technically summoned him and thus, was technically his? The child likely already had a family, who would wake up in the morning to find their son missing. They would probably call the police, and the resulting investigation could lead them back to the orphanage… in which case the boy would return home, and Tom would be left alone once again...no, that wouldn’t do.

          But first. He needed to wake him up. 


	2. Chapter 2

 

          When young Harry Potter went to sleep that night in the small cot of his cupboard, dreaming again of a bright green light and flying motorbikes, he was sure it was still the middle of the night when he felt something unexpected—the sharp prodding of his aunt’s fingers on his shoulder. He groaned, not wanting to wake up just yet. He wasn’t sure what she wanted, but it couldn’t possibly be morning yet. But he did not want to make her angry. He might just go without food again.

          Opening his eyes all but made him startle in sudden confusion. For Harry was not staring into the hateful glare of his aunt, uncle, or even his cousin, but instead into the dark eyes of a stranger, a boy, who was roughly tapping his shoulder in an effort to wake him. Sitting up wildly, Harry looked around the room in confusion, a lump in his throat as he did not know where he was, or how he had come to be here. It was dark, and while the bed was small and cramped, it was still much better then the torn mattress his uncle had shoved under the stairs to serve as Harry’s bedroom. He turned to look at the other boy, who was studying him quietly. He looked of similar age, but taller, with neatly trimmed hair though his pajamas looked slightly worn.

          Then, just as Harry was going to question the boy about where he was, he had a horrible thought. As all horrible thoughts came to him whenever he was scared. What if… _what if_ this was another one of Harry’s ‘freakish’ accidents? What if he had somehow caused himself to _teleport_ into another boy’s room while he slept? His uncle would have yelled at him for such a thought, but Harry couldn’t help it. He still remembered when he ran from Dudley and his gang and somehow managed to land on the school roof when he had jumped behind the bins. He still did not know how that had happened, but his suspension from school, the scolding, and the subsequent lock down in his cupboard for nearly a month had terrified him of a repeat. He did not want to get into a similar situation again. He did not want to be locked up and punished, no food and endless chores, for disturbing some family with his unexplained presence.

          With the awkward situation growing by the minute, and the silence getting to him, Harry stood up and bit his lip, putting some distance between them. He stammered and stumbled backwards towards the door,

          “I-I’m sorry for…um…I-I didn’t mean to—! I’ll just—”

* * *

 

          Tom Riddle was perplexed. Confused even. He was rarely so. Here was his supposed friend, awkwardly attempting to take in the situation, and then jumping and backing up towards the door. While the confusion and nervousness was something expected, what confused Tom more was the fact that the boy was _apologizing_ …as if this whole situation was somehow _his_ fault? And what did he mean by that phrase? He didn’t mean to… what?

          Tom snapped out of his daze when he noticed the boy leaning towards the door, his hand groping behind him for the handle and trying to leave as quickly and as quietly as possible. Tom moved so fast even he was surprised by his sudden agility. He grabbed the boy’s arm before he could make it and quickly put his palm to the boy’s mouth, muffling his surprise. The walls were rather thin, and he didn’t want anyone investigating if there was too much noise. The boy didn’t struggle too much as he hauled him back to the bed and forced him to sit down. Putting a finger to his mouth that he needed him to be quiet, only when he nodded did Tom release his hand. Then, Tom quickly used some of his power to keep the boy from running and began his questions.

* * *

          When the other boy had suddenly grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the door, Harry hadn’t known what to do other than shout in alarm. However, his yell was stifled by a hand as he was quickly led back to the bed and forced to sit down.

          Taking in the dark room and the way the taller boy signaled for him to keep quiet, Harry understood that other people were probably asleep in the house. His mouth was released, and Harry took a deep breath. He was thankful he hadn’t caused any noise to wake up anyone else. Maybe the boy would help him get back home— he could return to the Dursley’s, sneak back inside and nobody would even know he had left. Harry dearly hoped so.

          Then, Harry felt his back stiffen unnaturally, and he could not move. He felt a tremor of fear as he realized it was not his doing. It was the boy.

          “What’s your name?” the boy abruptly asked, leaning over Harry in a way that made him uncomfortable. He frowned, still unable to move. He squirmed under the invisible bonds holding him down. He tried to answer without giving away too much. If he did manage to get back home, he didn’t want the boy telling anyone he was here.

          “Harry.”

* * *

          “Harry…what?”

          Tom frowned, especially when the boy, presumably Harry, went quiet when he asked for his last name. When the boy eventually said something in a small voice, “Peters”, to which Tom smirked. This boy was clearly very bad at lying. He could instantly tell his real name was Harry, but the last name was a lie. Tom didn’t want to scare his new friend too much before they got to properly know each other, so he withheld his power to force the answer out and asked something different.  

          “Where do you live?”

* * *

          The boy was rude, that much Harry was sure of. If he wasn’t so afraid by his sudden immobility, he might have refused to answer. As it was, Harry was sure the other boy was gathering information, so he could report him to the police. Harry had appeared in his room without any explanation, and it only made sense to contact the authorities. The thought made Harry sick, thinking about what would happen when he returned home.

          “I live in Surrey…and um…I didn’t mean to do…I think it was an accident…” he started fidgeting with his hands, the hold on his body on his body lessening somewhat, but when he could no longer contain his rising panic, he pleaded out in fear, “Please don’t call the police! I didn’t mean to come here…I’ll go back, but please don’t call them…please…” he finished rather lamely, nearly trembling in his rush to get the other to understand. Then he waited, shut his eyes tightly against his tears because he knew the boy was likely to ignore him.  

* * *

 

          “The police?” Tom asked, uncertain he had heard right.

           But when he thought about it, it made sense. Harry’s nervousness, the random apologizing, the lie about his full name. The boy clearly believed _he_ was the one responsible for his random appearance here, no matter how strange or absurd the fact was. He was afraid of Tom calling the police. He smirked, realizing he could work with this. He could use Harry’s own assumption against him to find out more. He sat down beside the trembling boy. He may as well calm him down, at least. Tom had no intention of ever calling the police, be it now or in the future.

           Feigning confusion over the situation, Tom spoke softly to the boy,   

           “Call the police? I’m not going to call them, at least, not yet anyway. My name is Tom Riddle, by the way. This is an orphanage.”

* * *

 

           Harry flinched. He didn’t mean to. While his initial fear was relieved somewhat when the boy, Tom Riddle, said he wouldn’t call the police right away, his next words startled Harry so much, he couldn’t stop his surprise from showing, a new fear taking its place.

           “A-An Orphanage?”

* * *

           Tom looked at the smaller boy. His emotions had ranged intensely in just a few minutes, from fear, panic, uncertainty, and now to fear again, with a dawning comprehension in his eyes, as if he now understood why he was here and how it had happened. 

           “Yes, this is an orphanage…it’s called Wool's, and the matron is Mrs. Cole.”

           Tom smiled internally, realizing he might just get off with this easier than he anticipated. He imagined a struggle to get the boy to stay here, especially if he wanted to return to his previous, happy life. But seeing the fear, then the sad acceptance in his eyes, Tom realized that Harry was most likely an orphan too, or else lived in a situation with people who did not want him.

           “Are you an orphan too?”

* * *

           Harry didn’t know what to say. The truth hurt a lot more than he thought it would. Despite the fact that Harry had always known his relatives didn’t want him, he had always silently believed that they would accept him... and now, the fact that they had abandoned him in an orphanage during the night, without even telling him, hurt more than he was willing to admit.

           His cousin often hit him, and Harry had no friends in the area because Dudley always scared them away. He slept in the cupboard under the stairs, even though there was two extra rooms in the house. He wore Dudley’s old clothes despite the fact that they didn’t fit him. His aunt and uncle constantly yelled at him, even when he did nothing wrong. He did all of the chores, but even when he cooked a full breakfast for them, Harry was lucky if he got any leftovers. Whenever something strange happened he was always punished for it, locked inside his cupboard for days. He knew they didn’t love him. He _knew_ that. But still, he didn’t think they would actually put him in an orphanage, no matter how many times they threatened it.  

          “Yes…” Harry said softly, looking down at his hands, “My parents died in a car crash…I live with my aunt and uncle… and cousin, but they’ve never liked me very much…I guess…”

* * *

          This was perfect. Tom had to visibly suppress his excitement, because he couldn’t have asked for a better situation to present itself. Harry was an orphan, like him, and from what little the boy had said, Tom could guess that his relatives rejected him, perhaps frequently- he would get more information later, but for now, this was the perfect opportunity to get the boy to live here. From Harry’s defeated expression, it seemed the boy believed he had been dropped off at the orphanage during the night. It didn’t matter if this was true or not. If Harry fully believed it himself, and Tom did not deny or accept it, then the boy would feel compelled to stay of his own accord. Besides, if his family really _did_ reject him that much, and so easily too, perhaps living at Wool’s would be better for him… if such a thing was even possible.

          But as Tom watched the boy carefully from the side, the hurt expression in his eyes, the thought of being abandoned and left to live to institutional squalor, he felt strangely transfixed at the sight, oddly detached from his previous glee. Normally, Tom would be annoyed at such a display of weakness, but instead he laid a hand on his shoulder, releasing his power so Harry could move on his own. Only after did Tom realize he had just comforted the boy automatically. Strange.

          “Well, if you’re an orphan too, then I suppose you’ll be staying here…? I can inform Mrs. Cole in the morning…and you can sleep here tonight.”

          Moving over, Tom allowed the boy under the blankets beside him. It was cramped in such a small bed, but he didn’t mind, since Harry was technically _his_ friend now, the friend his power had thought to grant to him and no one else. When the boy settled down beside him, curling up into a tiny ball once more, he couldn’t help but study Harry once more. Tom knew he didn’t feel guilty about anything… Harry didn’t ask him how he got here, and even if he had, Tom would have encouraged the boy to believe his own thoughts, that his relatives had abandoned him during the night. Still, when Tom drifted off into sleep, his chest ached in an unfamiliar way, and his thoughts nagged at the image of the boy beside him, curled into a ball, and utterly failing to drown out the quiet sniffs and shudders that came throughout the night.


	3. Chapter 3

     

          By the time morning arrived, Tom had successfully managed to convince Mrs. Cole into allowing Harry to stay at the orphanage. He knew he was right to complain about the building's tight capacity, too; Mrs. Cole, predictably, assumed he merely trying to rid himself of yet another roommate, and as 'punishment', he was to share his room with Harry. As if the old woman could ever make him _share_ his room with anyone. No, Tom would have Harry, and no one else.

          Harry, for his part, followed along quietly from behind, hardly saying a word but to answer the questions about who he was and his family situation. Annoyingly, the boy still refused to reveal his real surname, and when the matron asked, she stupidly believed the boy’s timid response of “Peters”.  But it didn’t matter, for now at least. Tom would eventually call Harry out on this tiny white lie when a more favorable opportunity arrived.  

          So when breakfast was finally served, and most of the other children were up for the day with a bubbly chatter that Tom had always found aggravating, Harry was settled into his room with an extra bed and a few spare clothes as required. Afterwards, the young caretaker, Martha, had left Tom to show Harry around— but he didn’t miss the way her eyes narrowed with the smallest amount of suspicion, either. He had, after all, been unusually accommodating towards his new 'roommate'. Typically he would have bluntly refused to have them, or else scared them with his powers by now, to make the Matron room them with someone else instead. Martha would likely tell Mrs. Cole and the staff about it later, but it hardly mattered to Tom. The old woman wouldn’t be able to pinpoint Tom’s compliance as anything other than that— compliance. She would probably just add another notch of fear to Tom’s name, sure that he had done something ‘strange’, or else was up to no good.

          And thus by the time Tom led Harry down to the dining hall for breakfast, the other children were already gathered and eating. He didn’t miss the way _their_ eyes trailed after him in fear and suspicion too, before darting over to the new boy walking next to him. Harry, Tom noticed, looked nervous, and kept his eyes mostly lowered while following along. He seemed anxious, or shy, but somehow, from their conversation last night, Tom had a feeling that wasn’t entirely it.

          Harry sat at the far end of the table opposite to Tom, beside the large, open windows, while the other children resumed their meals with slightly more chatter than before. But after five minutes, Tom realized Harry had hardly touched his food and was beginning to tremble while staring out the window. He decided to intervene when Harry looked about ready to cry. He could only tolerate so much.

          “What’s wrong?” he said sharply,

          “Nothing…” the boy jumped at his voice, but looking at Tom’s sudden glare, he continued to explain,

          “I'm sorry... it’s just, I’m scared of being alone…my relatives left me, and… besides you, I don’t know anyone else…and the other orphans seem so...” he trailed off.

          _Well._

          While it was true, and nothing Tom didn’t already suspect, it was nevertheless mildly insulting to hear come from the boy's lips. Harry, his granted friend, summoned to be _Tom’s_   companion only, wanted to be friends with the _other_ orphans as well? In Tom’s mind, such a thing would never happen; Harry was _his_ , Tom had brought him here, and therefore was his alone to talk to—he wouldn't share what was his with anyone else; now he just needed to make sure Harry understood this fact too. Tom had known since last night, thinking as he often did in the early hours, that he would have to deal with the threat of the other orphans taking an interest in Harry, and possibly the other way around. He had a plan ready, of course, to make Harry refrain from going near them, and so putting on an air of sorrow, glancing around the room at the other children, Tom masked his face into the perfect imitation of sympathy and said, 

          “Harry... I hate to be the one to tell you this, but the other orphans—"

* * *

          When Harry had finally settled in his room with Tom, and the Matron Mrs. Cole had questioned him about his relatives, and then given him a bundle of old clothes to wear, he realized, without a doubt, that he really _was_ in an orphanage. Harry had drifted through his interview as though he was walking in a dream. He wasn't sure whether he had hoped it was a truly dream or not, but the reality came crashing down on him anyways as he took in his new surroundings. 

          His relatives really _did_ get rid of him .He was truly alone here. He knew no one besides Tom. The adults seemed just as unfriendly as Harry knew them to be at home, and even with Dudley gone, Harry was scared he wouldn’t be welcomed here either. The place felt strange too, as though he was looking through glass; everything was made of wood, and the air felt perpetually cold, frigid and cool despite the sun outside. It was true that Harry didn't know much about orphanages, but he didn't expect it to be so empty either. So far he hadn't seen one television, nor any of the usual toys and things he admired from afar but often couldn't have; like crayons, or coloring books, or even those little figurines Harry had stolen from Dudley once when he lost them in the grass. Instead there were a scare amount of books in the playroom, small, broken, and colorless toys scattered around, and little else.

          And besides all of this, whenever Harry glanced around while Tom lead him through the corridors, he saw the others frowning at him, glaring, and a number of them whispering in his direction. Would this place be just like his old home? Where everyone hated him because his baggy clothes and strangeness? Would they call him a freak too?

          “What’s wrong?” Tom asked suddenly. Harry jumped at his voice, realizing he was sitting now in the dining hall, not eating and on the verge of tears. 

          “Nothing…” he said, but when he saw that the older boy wasn’t too happy with his reply, he hastened to explain,

          “I'm sorry...it's just, I’m scared of being alone here…my relatives left me and… besides you, I don’t know anyone else…and the other orphans seem so...” He stopped there, hoping Tom would understand his worries about making friends.

          At first, Tom didn’t reply. He looked thoughtful, his eyes darting around the room instead, watching the other orphans eating far away from the two boys. Then he leaned in, his face sorrowful, and Harry had a brief moment where he felt certain Tom would comfort his anxiety. Tell him it wasn’t true. That he could make friends here if he wanted to. But then Tom spoke, and everything came to a halt.

          “Harry…I hate to be the one to tell you this, but the other orphans…they really do _hate_ you right now.”

_What?_

          Harry wasn’t sure he’d heard Tom correctly, but his heart was thundering against his rib cage as Tom continued to say what Harry wanted to deny even existed.

          “It’s true,” Tom confirmed with a sad nod, “You see them over there? Whispering behind our backs? They're jealous. They’re angry because you’re the _new_ orphan. And no one likes new orphans, Harry. Because it means less stuff for them.”

          Harry was still in shock from what Tom was saying, before he whispered back, biting his bottom lip,

          “But why? I haven’t even done anything yet…”

          “Don’t you see? They hate you _because_ you haven’t done anything yet. You’re simply here, which means less food, less clothes, less room for the rest of them. But really, you shouldn’t bother with the others, Harry. You have me still, isn’t that enough?”

* * *

          Tom finished his little speech with a feeling of smug satisfaction. He watched Harry’s eyes widen at his 'revelation', the momentary fear of being alone and his deepest fears confirmed, and then the flooding of relief when he’d mentioned he still had Tom by his side. It was strange, in a way, to watch Harry like that. He'd known the boy for less than a day and already Tom was becoming fascinated watching him react to different things. While he normally hated the other orphan's pitiful display of weeping and crying, it fascinated him to watch Harry, changing his emotions in mere moments by the whims of Tom, as though Harry's very world hinged on his words, his truthfulness and lies. 

          Tom still didn’t quite understand how he felt towards Harry; was he his friend? Tom didn't know. He had already told himself many times how he didn't need friendship, and how pathetic it was, and he was certain he felt the same now as he did yesterday, even despite his powers suggesting otherwise. But Harry was also his _summoned_ friend, which meant that Harry must have the potential to be something to Tom, useful to him in some way; he must have come to Tom for a reason, or they must be similar in some way, which Tom had yet to figure out.

          And while it wasn’t exactly a _lie_ when he told the boy the others hated him... it wasn’t entirely the truth either. The older boys really did tend to pick on the newer ones, just to see if they could get anything from them while they were still naive and sad about living in an orphanage…but the truth was something far less interesting, seeing as most of the orphans simply didn't care about new arrivals, as they were all in a similar situation regardless. And Tom knew the others were only whispering about _him_ , the 'freak' Tom Riddle, and not so specifically towards Harry.

          But now the smaller boy would be afraid of approaching the others, convinced that they hated him for simply being here. Tom would make sure no one approached them either, to prove the boy otherwise, and Harry would soon learn to trust only in Tom. He gleefully imagined a time when Harry would be doing everything he says, obedient to Tom's every demand, as his granted friend should be. But that would come later, surely when the boy finally understood his status as Tom's personal gift to himself, and as such, Tom could do as he pleased with the boy.

          Yes, it was all just a matter of time. 


	4. Chapter 4

          The following days were agony for Harry. Even though he _knew_ now why the other children hated him, it didn’t make their silent taunts and angry, hushed whispers behind his back any easier; especially when they followed him wherever he went.

          His only relief was that Tom was by his side the entire time, enduring it just the same. Although Harry did find it odd that Tom wasn’t as bothered by it as Harry was. Nothing seemed to affect the older boy, and his face was the perfect mask of indifference. It was also strange that no one talked to Tom as well, and vice versa, but Harry put it aside in his gratefulness towards Tom for staying by his side, even through the worst of it.

          And so, four days passed by in the same manner before something actually happened.

          Harry was standing outside Mrs. Cole’s office alone, waiting for Tom to finish asking for his and Harry’s allowances for the winter clothes; he was letting Tom do the negotiating because Harry had a bad habit of accepting only the smallest portion and never asking for more. At the Dursley’s, they never got him any winter clothes, and only once gave him his cousin’s torn up scarf, which was often better off as it had so many holes in it. Here, however, Harry was going a coat _and_ mittens, and possibly a hat too, if Tom got enough. To him it didn’t matter if they were bought from a secondhand store— Harry could hardly contain his excitement.

          But before Tom came back, a girl he’d seen many times around the orphanage walked up to him cautiously, turning her head towards the door twice, before she whispered to him, as though fearful of being caught,

          “Why are you with Tom? Are you like him? Are you a freak too?”

          Harry winced when he heard the word ‘freak’, but it quickly dissolved into the smallest traces of anger.

          “No…I’m not a freak…I’m Harry. Just…Harry. And Tom is my friend so—!”

          “But aren’t you scared of him?” she continued, raising an eyebrow and cutting Harry off, “Do you know what he can do?”

          Harry had never heard anyone speak of Tom this way. Why should he be scared? And what could Tom do that had the girl looking at him with wide, knowing eyes? Before he could question her, she went on

          “Tom’s never had a roommate last longer than a day. That’s why we were wondering about you. They go crying to Mrs. Cole… and they’re never the same after spending the night with him… you should stay away from him before—!”

           The door to Mrs. Cole’s office slammed open and Tom walked out. Both Harry and the girl jumped back, as though they were caught doing something they shouldn’t. His heart was wildly thumping as Tom took in their guilty faces, and the girl looked as pale as death when his eyes landed on her.

          “Amy. What a pleasant surprise.” Tom said, laying a hand on Harry's shoulder.

          Even Harry could feel the tension in the air, and he was starting to feel scared. 

          “You know, Harry, I recall seeing Amy’s doll on her bed. It’s quite lovely isn’t it? Wasn’t it a gift from your parents?”

          Amy looked horrified, her face pale and eyes swimming with tears as Tom continued,

         “Ah yes, I remember now— it was the last thing they gave you before coming here, right? Would be a shame if something happened to it—”

          “Don’t touch my doll!” Amy screamed before rushing up the stairs, presumably to check if her toy was still safe. Which left Tom and Harry alone once again.

          Harry had never felt such a suffocating atmosphere around Tom. The older boy’s fingers dug into Harry’s shoulder painfully, before he suddenly let go. Then he turned around and said,

          “Let’s go Harry. Lunch will be served soon, and we don’t want to lose our spot.”

          But as Harry rubbed his sore shoulder and followed quietly along, resuming where they had left off, he thought back to what Amy had just told him.

          _But aren’t you scared of him? Do you know what he can do?_

          But what _could_ Tom do? Why had he acted like that with Amy? Harry thought about what Tom said, about losing their spot for lunch. When Harry remembered the last few days, they always sat at the same table by the windows. And it was _always_ empty. Even if all the other tables were full, somehow, their spot was always free. He’d thought it was just a coincidence, but now…

            _Tom’s never had a roommate last longer than a day…._

          Was it just his imagination? Or was there something going on that Harry didn't know?

* * *

          Amy Benson. The whore. He’d seen her looking at Harry for days now, trying to catch him when Tom wasn’t looking. It was obvious what she was doing too; trying to set Harry against him, like the rest of them.

          But what Amy didn’t know was that her plan wouldn’t work. It _couldn’t_ work. Harry had come to him by Tom’s powers alone, and his power would never go against him. Harry was sure to stay with Tom forever, he thought viciously. Although, perhaps just to be safe, he might try and push Harry a little, to make the boy understand better...

          Yes, he would do… _that._

* * *

 

          Tom waited three days before finally carrying out his plan. He wanted Harry to come to _him_ , for a change, for the smaller boy to be desperate enough for _his_ friendship, so much that Harry would beg Tom for his forgiveness, and eventually, the boy would learn to disregard the other insufficient orphans in favor of Tom. After all, Tom had already accepted Harry as his specially granted gift, so surely it was Harry’s turn to realize that he belonged to Tom as well.

          Tom’s plan was simple— to ensure Harry would never leave him for anyone else. The first step was for Tom to leave Harry to the mercy of the others, if only for a few moments. They would surely do something the moment Tom turned away. And so the opportunity presented itself when Martha came asking him to visit Mrs. Cole before lunch, to talk about him starting school in the new year.

          Thus Tom told Harry to get their lunch while he talked to Mrs. Cole. But as he watched Harry go off alone, clearly nervous, he decided to wait on talking to the hag until later, and went around to the back door instead, listening inside a small nook to the drama that was sure to unfold.

* * *

 

          When Tom left Harry alone for the first time, sitting alone in the mess hall, his heart rate gradually went up, in equal measures, the longer he sat. First ten minutes. Then fifteen. Harry could no longer watch the clock as time seemed slowed, and the whispers came to him in various volumes:

          “Where’s Tom?”

          “Why is he alone?”

          “Should we do something while he's...?”

          “No, idiot! Shh!”

          One group of boys, however, approached Harry while he ate, and as they got closer, Harry realized they were the older boys he’d seen playing around the parks at night. Harry tried to stand, but before he could move, they were already gathering around his table, preventing him from leaving.

          “So you’re Tom’s friend, right?” one boy with blonde hair said, taking Tom’s seat opposite of him.

          “So you’re a friend of the freak? Does that make you one too?” they laughed when Harry failed to answer. The boy continued on in a mocking voice,

          “Did mummy and daddy not like your freakishness and dropped you off here? Or are you more like Tom, who was born in filth like this?”

          “Whoa, Billy! Calm down,” another boy, this one behind Harry, said smoothly, “Don’t be so mean to the new kid. He’s getting scared, right?”

          The other boy sat down beside Harry, and casually wrapped his arm around his shoulder. Just when Harry thought the situation might ease up, the boy grabbed his juice and started pouring it all over his trousers.

          “There, isn’t that nice?”

          Everyone close by was laughing. Even a couple girls sitting further down the table laughed at Harry’s wet pants. He felt tears building up. He hadn’t been this humiliated since-

          “Here, Dennis” the boy named Billy laughed with a cruel smile, “Maybe he needs a hat with that?”

          But as Billy tried to grab the food and toss it all over Harry’s head, suddenly, Billy’s face turned red, as he struggled to lift the plate up. In frustration he grabbed Harry’s soup bowl, but it too appeared stuck to the tray, and no amount of physical force could get him to lift it.

          The boy’s eyes then turned wide-eyed, and after glancing around, landed on Harry.

          The other boy’s, still laughing at Harry’s situation, suddenly realized what was wrong, and backed up, along with Billy.

          “You really are freak like him!” the boy said, so loud that nearly all of the children had stopped talking to watch,

          “Your pants—!” Dennis gawked, staring down at Harry’s trousers, now dry as bone. As though Dennis hadn’t spilled a single drop on him.

          “You’ll regret this!” Billy rasped out, while Harry sat stunned as they turned around and ran back outside.

          Harry lowered his head as everyone continued to stare at him. He wished now more than ever that Tom would come back….

* * *

 

          Tom was listening to the bullies with glee, from the moment they descended on his poor little Harry to the moment when something seemed to change. He frowned when suddenly there was a lapse in conversation, a quietness of sorts, before Billy shouted something Tom never expected to hear from the foul boy’s mouth.         

          “You really are a freak like him!”

          He almost didn’t believe it when they ran outside too, barely missing his hiding spot, in apparent fear.

          What happened in there? What had Harry done?

          Nothing about Harry was...  _fearful_. Tom knew firsthand from the last few days that the boy was nearly innocent to a fault, so what was Billy screaming about being like Tom? And running away?

          In no mood to ignore the situation any further, Tom slipped back inside and headed for the hall, seeing Harry sitting there sadly, staring at his food. He noticed the eyes of the other children followed him as Tom approached the table and sat down. He let the boy look at him for a few moments, before finally relenting and asking,

          “What happened? I saw—"

          However, just then, Mrs. Cole came bursting through the doors, pulling the arm of a blushing Dennis while Billy followed behind quickly, smiling from behind.

          Her eyes swept the hall, every child looking away, before they met Tom’s, and then curiously enough, slid over to Harry. It was clear what was wrong, by Harry’s paling face and Dennis’s soaked pants.

          “Who did this?” she asked the hall loudly, but her eyes never left Tom and Harry.

          “It was him, Mrs. Cole! The new boy!” Billy pushed forward, and smiled smugly at Tom while narrowing his eyes at Harry.

          Tom knew by then what was actually going on; the boys were trying to get his special friend in trouble. There was no way Harry had actually done that to Dennis's pants. Harry was pale as a sheet as the Matron swooped down on him. She looked livid as she said,

          “I knew there must be something more with _you_ …to take to Tom so much...” she sneered, “Two weeks, no dinner. And every morning you’re to help Martha with the laundry. You can start, I hope, with Mr. Bishop’s trousers— and pray they’re not ruined."

          And with that, she marched away, leaving Harry in tears. Billy and Dennis walked past them with wicked smiles, and Tom, finally having enough of being left in the dark, used his powers to prod Harry for answers. He needed to know _now_.

          “What. Happened.” he said sternly, locking his eyes with Harry.

          Harry shook as he responded,

          “It wasn’t my fault... m-my pants…and the food…”

          “Yes?” He was becoming slightly frustrated when Harry continued to hesitate, opening and closing his mouth. Normally his powers worked so well— why wasn’t it working now? He pushed a little harder,

          “Billy …he got mad because of my plate…it-it wouldn’t move…and then the other one…my pants…but t-they aren’t wet…anymore.” he mumbled the last part to himself.

          Tom wasn’t sure if he’d heard the boy right. It didn’t make much sense. His plate wouldn’t move? And his pants weren’t wet? Tom quickly looked to Harry’s drink, which was empty. He considered everything he had heard before he came inside, and everything that had happened after, but couldn’t quite form the picture.

          It almost sounded like....

* * *

 

          Harry was still in a deep state of shock by the time him and Tom went to sleep. He went to bed hungry, of course, but it wasn’t like Harry wasn’t used to such treatment.

          The day was very painful, and Harry wasn’t entirely sure why. Dudley and his gang often got Harry into trouble by framing him for the things they did. His uncle would more often than not shove him into his cupboard without dinner. And he had chores everyday at the Dursley’s. It was nothing new.

          Harry guessed it was not so much to do with the punishments he had received so much as the fact that every child in the dining hall had witnessed the conflict play out... if anyone had wanted to be his friend before…Harry felt sure they wouldn’t want to now.

          By the time Harry fell into an uncertain sleep, he thought once more about his situation…and how his terrible luck had followed him, even to his new home…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope someone likes it. I'll be away again next week, so I'll update whenever I am back, or whenever I can.


	5. Chapter 5

           If Tom Riddle had ever once believed that Harry’s mysterious incident with Billy was merely a first... it soon proved not to be his last. Over the course of the boy’s punishment and into the following weeks after, strange things seemed to happen around Harry all the time, to which Tom found himself frequently annoyed as the incidents piled up.

           It wasn’t as though he was _jealous_ of the boy, no, on the contrary, he was _angry_ at him for making himself so _noticeable_ around the orphanage! Before... the boy was barely a shadow behind Tom’s looming presence. And now? Now Harry had gained enough of a reputation to rival Tom! And all on his own too…although of course, Tom was still the most feared of the two— everyone knew what would happen if they touched Tom’s things. Especially....

          But Tom wasn’t a fool; he knew they were the same. And he knew why the boy was sent to him, now, and why they were supposedly compatible enough to be friends; it was the fact that they both had special powers! The problem, however, was that Harry had no idea how to _control_ it. Unlike himself, who took pride in hiding and playing with his powers whenever he so wished, his new friend didn’t appear to even acknowledge it, let alone learn the mechanisms of harnessing his gift.

          And so, when December came upon them, and Harry had failed to get his third haircut in a single week (and Mrs. Cole had looked so very livid too, he noted with pleasure), Tom knew it was time to confront the boy about controlling his powers. Besides, he was also curious as to confirm something he had seen on the boy’s forehead. He had never noticed it before, in all the weeks since his arrival, but the faint traces of a scar could be seen on occasion, and he wanted a closer look. So when it came time for bed one late evening, Tom quietly slid behind Harry, placed his hands on his back and pushed him down on the bed.

          “Tom? W-What are you—!”

          “Shh. It’s okay Harry, I just need to confirm something…now don’t move.”

 _Not that he could, even if he wanted to,_  Tom thought smugly.

          Tom used his powers to hold the boy down as he climbed on top. His eyes were wide and he was about to protest when Tom quickly smothered his yell and pulled his bangs apart in a sudden eagerness.

         There, marred across his skin, was the most peculiar scar Tom had ever seen. It looked like a lightning bolt, jagged and red, old and yet...new and Tom felt strange, looking at it closely now. For some reason, he felt compelled towards it. Like he wanted to…to _touch_ it.

        Tom held his breath, and Harry looked scared below him with his eyes filled with confusion, but he touched it anyways as a powerful surge of _something_ twisted into his very being. His fingers felt stuck to the scar, and he shook as an onslaught of sensations soared into him; he felt at once truly alive, whole and complete, everything mixing together at once and still—! A manic grin started to form on his face, laughter bubbling up before he even knew what was happening. He could feel everything, he could see the past, the future, playing within his mind, but it was too hard to grasp, and it wasn’t enough, he wanted more he—!

       “T-Tom…stop…stop!” Harry’s weak struggles brought him back to the present. Harry turned his head away sharply, and Tom's hand was jerked away from his forehead; he was still breathing heavily, though, from that state of pure bliss, the intensity of the moment slowly easing with time. 

       “W-what was that?” Harry cried out in exhaustion. Tom looked down at his friend. Had the boy had experienced it too?

       “W-Where did you get that scar?” Tom asked instead, still entranced by the mere thought of it.

       “I got it… when my parents died…my relatives didn’t like it though…they said it was ugly…”

       Ugly? It was surely the most powerful, beautiful thing he had ever—!

       “That’s good. Keep it hidden, Harry. You wouldn’t want the others to see it and make fun of it too, would you?”

        Harry shook his head and quickly covered the scar once again. Tom smiled and rolled off him, releasing his hold.

       It was one of the foulest lies that had ever passed his lips, but Tom did not want anyone else to look at the scar, let alone _touch_ it, to experience whatever _he_ felt. No, if Harry believed it was ugly, then he would be less inclined to show it off. The scar was his, just as Harry was his. No one but Tom was allowed to touch it and know about its power. He didn’t know what had happened, but for one blissful moment, he felt certain he could accomplish anything. It felt as though he had been… complete…as if he'd never known how empty he was before.

      The feeling had been so intense he had been on the verge of laughing hysterically, and his thoughts of Harry only increased in his need to keep the boy close. The strangest part, though, as Tom confirmed when he and Harry silently went to sleep afterwards, was that he could _still_ feel the tingling effects deep inside of him; whatever it was, it was still present, only dimmer; he could even sense Harry's presence across the room, if he concentrated hard enough. He would test it out more in the future, of course, but he was certain that something happened when he had touched the boy's scar... and whatever that something was…it now connected them. Tom did not regret it, nor did he want these feelings to end. Instead he wanted more, and he relished in the idea of him and his granted friend being tied together forever. Besides, wasn't that how things were supposed to be?

* * *

       When Amy had first told Harry, however briefly, about Tom’s personality and the fears of the other children, Harry hadn’t really much time to think about it, let alone consider it with any amount of truth. Tom had been nice to Harry, after all, and considering he was his only friend in the orphanage, and his only roommate, it was nice to have the taller boy stay by his side. But still, Amy’s words had somehow gotten into the back of his head, and every time he was with Tom, he found himself unconsciously watching him, trying to see what Amy and everyone else saw too. 

      He didn’t see it, at least, not at first. But then suddenly he was watching everything Tom did, recounting various things throughout each day even as he went to sleep. And when his puzzlement slowly began to form a picture, it was like he was seeing the older boy for the very first time, noticing his manipulations to get what he wanted, to the outright lies he told the others with unassumingly dark threats. 

_But aren’t you scared of him? Do you know what he can do?_

     But still, Harry hadn’t understood this...not until he came upon a scene he’d much rather forget. Harry had gone out with Martha to buy him a pair of glasses, that day, and when Harry had returned and looked for Tom out in the yard, what he had found…

          _“S-S-Stop! TOM!” Billy screamed, but the sound was slightly muffled, the boy rolling on the grass behind a small shed in the dark corner of the field, his face scrunched up in pain as he screamed so quietly, that it was truly frightening to hear such an unnatural sound come from his lips. A few other children scattered around to watch at a distance, but otherwise, no one interfered._

_Harry’s heart had stopped, and he fled behind the nearest tree before anyone noticed him._

_“Do you know what I want you to do, Billy?”_

_“Yes! Just stop! “the older boy cried, his eyes rolling back from some invisible pain. Harry watched in a terrifying moment when Tom lifted his hand, and a sizable brick came floating over to where he stood. How...?_

_“Say it! Say what I want you to do!” Tom yelled, so forcefully that even Harry, standing at a distance, flinched._

_“S-Stay away…Stay away from Peters! I understand! Just stop! Please!”_

_Harry’s heartbeat was erratic, thumping wildly in his chest._

_The brick fell from Tom’s hand with a loud thud, and soon enough, footsteps came closer, and Harry quickly ducked under a small bush. Tom didn’t see him when he headed back inside. Billy got up at last and struggled to walk back to the doors. The other children averted their eyes, and Billy glared at them all as he too went back inside the building..._

Yes, Harry wished he could forget the Tom from that day, but he couldn’t. So he hid behind his new glasses, unsure of himself, wishing away the memories and pretending that everything was alright between them. That Tom _hadn’t_ hurt and humiliated the older boy, even if it was Billy… that Tom _wasn’t_ the cruel child he’d seen with a brick in his hand...

          But then one night, Tom had held him down to the bed, using his strange ability to hold him again, pressing a finger against his scar. He couldn’t explain it, but the sensation of Tom touching his scar was pure joy, like they were finally connected and he didn’t want Tom to let go... but then Tom’s power was shaking him so hard, and he was struggling to breathe, his limbs stiff and so he jerked his head away, even through all of those wonderful feelings when he saw the strangest grin spread over Tom’s face, his eyes wide and exploring…

          That look, more than anything else, had scared Harry to the point where he wanted him off. 

          “T-Tom…stop…s-stop!” he yelled and pushed, something inside of him breaking at Tom’s hold over him.

          “W-what was that?” he cried, while Tom asked, slightly strained, 

          "W-Where did you get that scar?"

* * *

 

          Harry had laid awake that night, unable to sleep, thinking over everything that had happened to him at the orphanage. The other children stayed away from him now, just like they did with Tom...but it wasn't like it _his_ fault that strange things kept happening around him...was it? And he couldn't explain them, either; Mrs. Cole had all but given up on getting his hair cut when it just kept growing back. But Harry had seen Tom float a brick into his hand... that day, as if it were so _easy_ , as though he could actually harness... as though Tom could actually _control_...? 

          It was something of a revelation when Harry decided that he wasn't going to be like his old self anymore. He wasn't going to be the one who would always be Dudley’s punching bag, or Aunt Petunia’s personal slave. He wasn’t going to let anyone, including Tom, push him into doing things he didn’t want to do...not anymore. Not ever again.

          And Harry knew what he had to do, now that he thought about it. He needed to decide on his feelings for Tom, and where they stood as friends. After all, they had never once said they were friends, it was just something they had both come to expect. He needed to talk to Tom about the strange things... he needed to talk about their friendship, and although he was scared to admit it...he needed to confront Tom over what he had done to Billy....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is late, I hope someone likes it, I'll update whenever I can :)


	6. Chapter 6

         The next day, even before the sun was fully up, Tom found himself dragging little Harry down to the old shed in the fields surrounding the orphanage. Here, Tom would show the boy his powers. Here, he would tell him his secrets, and then teach the boy how to control his own gifts too— it was a gamble, yes, to trust Harry so much with his secrets…and so early into their relationship too. But alas, his Harry could not continue going like he was, gathering so much attention— not merely for his own sake, but for Tom’s as well; he would _not_ be sent to the doctor’s house. Tom was _not_ crazy.

          Harry, for his part, was unusually quiet that morning on their way outside. Tom attributed it to nothing too important and focused instead on his growing excitement as they traveled through the snow— he could still feel the effects of whatever had happened when he touched the boy’s scar, and although the strange feelings lingered on the edge of his mind, even now, he discovered quickly that he could use this new connection to keep track of the boy whenever he wasn’t around. It was good, in a way, but Tom was desperate to find out if it worked in the other direction too— it was beneficial for Tom, but he didn’t want Harry knowing where he was or what _he_ was up to each and every day. He had the feeling the boy wouldn’t appreciate what he usually did to keep the other orphans to themselves.

          Soon enough, they both stopped in front of the shed. Tom hadn’t been inside for quite a while, at least not since Harry arrived. He silently hoped his pet was still there, feeding off the occasional mouse or two. It had snowed heavily in the past few days, and although he wasn’t specifically worried, Tom usually checked in on her at least once a week. He had been absent for a while, then.  

          “W-What are we doing here, Tom”, Harry shivered in the cold. The smaller boy was wrapped up in his winter clothes, but it still wasn’t enough to keep the wind completely out.

          “I already told you,” Tom said, opening the door, “We’re here because I have something to show you.” But when Harry didn’t immediately go inside, he sighed,

          “It’s nothing that will hurt you. Now, come on”, Tom said, leading the way inside.

          _“Shala”_  , he hissed quietly, hoping his snake was still where he’d left her. Harry had just closed the door against the cold when the little red snake popped her head out of the dark wood, hissing in displeasure at Tom for waking her up.

          _“I hope you brought me something good,”_ she slithered out into the open.

“ _Of course,”_ Tom smiled, and pulled a bit of old sausage he had smuggled out of breakfast. He always brought her some sort of gift, or at least, to bribe her into being well behaved.

          _“Who’s this?”_ she tasted the air, _“I smell one other.”_

          Tom looked around to where Harry was now standing by the door, still shivering and not at all aware of what Tom was doing. He bent down and, shielding his mouth from view, whispered,

          _“That’s Harry. He’s my special friend. Go over and greet him, will you? Just don’t scare him quite yet, I want to show him how we speak first.”_

Shala nodded and slowly crept up to the smaller boy.

          “T-T-Tom?” Harry chattered through the dark, “Where are you?”

          “Over here—”

          “I can’t see— ah!” Tom watched as Harry tripped over his shoes and went tumbling to the floor. His glasses fell off in the process, but just as Harry was about to reach for them, he watched as Shala intercepted,  

_“Hello there, special friend,”_

          _“W-Who are you?”_

          And with three small hisses, all thoughts stopped for Tom.

* * *

 

           _“W-Who are you?”_ Harry asked, scared that there was someone else here besides Tom. But then his vision focused, and he yelped when the tiny snake in front of him spoke.

_“My name is Shala. I’m Tom’s favorite snake.”_

_“S-Snake?”_

          _“Shala, come here!”_ Harry heard Tom yell suddenly, although Harry couldn’t quite understand why. Once he put on his glasses, Harry saw Tom slowly approach him, with the small red snake wrapped around his fingers. Was it possible for snakes to talk? How? Or was it a trick of Tom’s?

          “ _Harry,”_ he looked up to see Tom standing over him, a small frown marring his features, “ _Can you understand me?”_

          “Of course I can understand you...” Harry said while getting up, a frown of his own forming as Tom looked split between excitement and uncertainty.

          “What’s more important is that you have a talking snake!”  he exclaimed wildly, his eyes wide, watching the little serpent in quiet fascination.

          _“I have a name, you know.”_  

          _“She spoke again!”_

Tom, who was watching Harry closely, said,

          “It’s not the snake that’s speaking, Harry. It’s you. You can understand and speak the snake’s language.”

          “Language? But I’m speaking English…so how—”

          “ _Listen to my voice. Do you hear the difference?”_

          Harry listened hard, and now that he was looking for it, he heard Tom emitting tiny hisses from his mouth. It was strange, and Harry couldn’t quite grasp how it was even possible. And he questioned Tom so.

          “It's because we’re special Harry,” Tom said, a strange gleam in his eyes, “We’re different from the rest of them, and now we have proof. We can do things others can’t, we can do anything... because we’re friends, right?”

          Harry looked away as Tom said this, flinching inside as he remembered his resolve from earlier. He had to talk to Tom. About their friendship. About what he had done to Billy… about the strange things they could do, what had happened between them last night and—

* * *

         Tom Riddle did not know what to do. His plans had abruptly stopped when Harry had spoken to Shala. He wasn’t expecting it. Was it because of their connection? And why did they have so much in common? But then the answer came to him, and a wave of affection brushed past Tom’s typically cold heart. It was _because_ Harry was Tom’s special friend. The one person he had brought to him with his powers, the only one even _capable_ of being his friend— the fact that Harry could also speak to snakes was simply another reason why Harry belonged to him. Harry was truly suited for him in every way—like _his_ friend should be.  

          Tom watched the boy in front of him, his usual green eyes now obscured behind his glasses, hiding most of his expression. But Tom could guess what it was. His own expression had been much the same, when he had first discovered he could speak to snakes.

           “Because we’re special Harry,” he said, and it was true. He was special. _They_ were special.

          “We’re different from the rest of them,” Tom continued, his smile growing with anticipation, “and now we have proof. We can do things others can’t, we can do anything...because we’re friends, right?” 

        "R-Right..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is late, I hope I can update once more before the weekend is over, I can only write this on the weekends right now, that's why.


	7. Chapter 7

         Tom knew Harry was desperate to say something to him over the course of the next few days. The fact that Harry could speak to snakes had pleased him more than he thought it would, and every chance he got Tom found himself speaking in their hidden tongue, trying to teach the boy the differences, as well as scare off the other orphans. So far, it was working very well indeed. They had also spent a lot of time trying to hone Harry’s gift— the boy wasn’t easy to convince he had powers like Tom, but after a day spent trying to make things float, Harry relented at last, after a disastrous attempt to make his fork float resulted in it smacking the boy in the face. Tom would have laughed if it didn't make him appear silly. He had appearances to keep up, after all. 

          But even through it all, Tom was aware that something was bothering the boy, with his face so innocently worried, a near constant frown behind those spectacles that Tom found it quite cute, and if not a little amusing. So, naturally, there was only one solution: to continue pretending not to notice Harry’s little dilemma. Instead, Tom decided to wait until the boy crumpled under the pressure of his own, blissful ignorance.

          Yes, it was quite fun, in a way, to poke and prod the younger boy, to ask him questions (“Is something wrong?”) and whenever Harry was about to say something, Tom would conveniently turn the conversation elsewhere, letting the boy sag under the growing pressure. He had no idea what troubling Harry was so much, but it was humorous to watch him struggle, and Tom would have prolonged the entire conversation if only to watch Harry’s silent battle of wills.

          Sadly, by the end of the fourth day, the boy finally cracked. They were standing outside their room when Harry literally shouted what had been bothering him for days. Tom would have let him shout, too, if they hadn’t been in the entirely wrong area to do so.

          “Tom, I know what you did to Billy! And—!”

           Well, of course Tom didn’t let Harry finish that sentence before he was shoving him into their room, closing the door with a sharp snap.

          Harry faltered then, but the boy seemed determined to go on, to get everything off his chest, even despite Tom’s unnerving silence in the room.

          “I saw what you did Tom…a-and it was wrong… to hurt him like that…and I-I don’t know… if we can be friends…” Harry said quietly, looking away this time, “if you keep on doing bad things …Tom.”

          Thus Tom simply stood there, his expression perfectly stony against the raging turmoil inside.

          _Can’t be friends?_ Tom almost laughed. What kind of twisted game fate playing at? His powers had _granted_ him a friend, a person snatched away from their previous life and given specifically to Tom, _his_ , and now, just when he was happy with the way things were going, his friend doesn’t want to be friends if Tom doesn't act better? And act better to whom? _Billy?_

          Forcing himself to swallow was much harder in action. It would seem his gift had granted him a friend, yes, but it was up to Tom to keep it that way. _So be it._  Tom never could resist a challenge, and even though the boy had been quiet thus far, he knew there was more behind those green eyes and glasses than meek compliance.

          “Alright.” Tom said, frowning outwards but internally gleeful. This was the perfect way to get Harry to stay with him, and to mend whatever frustration was getting in the way of Harry's thoughts.

          The boy looked so dumbfounded by his statement, Tom couldn’t help a smirk from forming.

          “W-What?” he was clearly not expecting Tom to agree so fast.

          “I’ll stop tormenting Billy. But first…”

          “But what?”

          Here Tom hesitated, letting his face morph into a blend of deep regret and sadness, just enough to lure the boy in.

          “You’ll need to do something for me first, Harry. It’s only fair. I’ll stop being mean to Billy, and you’ll do me a favor in return. Agreed?”

          Harry looked doubtful, his little face pinched in thought. 

          “Okay..." he finally agreed, "But what do you want me to do?”

          “Don’t worry, Harry. I’ll think of something, sooner or later.”

          In fact, it would be much, much later. If Tom had his way, he was planning to let this tiny favor hang over Harry's head for as long as it could last. Tom was quite happy to let this particular request tie them together for however many years it took to make Harry stay by his side. And Tom didn’t mind leaving Billy alone either, because he knew he could do other things to torment the older boy without even touching a hair on his precious little head. He smiled as he changed into his pajamas, getting ready for bed.

          It seemed Harry was not quite done with his questions, though, for just when Tom was about to shut his eyes, Harry called to him softly in the dark,

          “Tom?”

          “Yes?”

          “D-Did my aunt and uncle really abandon me here...? I'm sorry...I-I just keep thinking about it....”

          Tom stiffened at the question. Why was he asking this, out of the blue? His heart raced and he answered rather harshly, 

          “Of course they abandoned you, why else would you be here? Now go to sleep, we still have to practice tomorrow.”

          “Okay. Goodnight, Tom....”

* * *

  
         While Harry fell to sleep, Tom was now wide awake, still thinking over the question his granted friend just asked.

          Why did he feel so nervous? It was unlike him, and especially over a lie he had already told the boy. It was a stupid question. The boy was clearly still sad about his abandonment in the orphanage. And here Tom thought he had gotten over it....

          Whatever it was, Tom knew he would have to get a hold of himself in the future. If Harry ever asked him again, about how he had come here, Tom would have to be more prepared. How would Harry react if he ever found out the truth?

          Closing his eyes once more, Tom vowed that, no matter what, Harry could never find out that Tom was the one who had brought him here. It was quite possibly his only weakness, the one hole in Tom’s formidable web of lies, the one lie that Tom felt sure Harry may never forgive. And Tom would never allow Harry to leave him. Harry was _his_ friend, and his alone.

          When Tom finally slept that night, his fingers clenched tightly into his pillow with the thought of those bright green eyes turning against him. No, Harry could never find out.

         Never....

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for all the comments, I plan on having a time skip next chapter...


	8. Chapter 8

          2 years later…

          “Mrs. Cole! Mrs. Cole! Are we really going to the beach?”

          “For the last time Billy, _yes,_ we are going to the beach. And _no,_ you cannot bring that infernal rabbit with you. Put it back upstairs.”

          Tom watched idly from the bus window as Billy Stubbs raced back inside, presumably to put his stupidly large rabbit back into its cage. Billy was twelve, and last year he had somehow acquired a pet rabbit; the thing was hideous, in Tom’s opinion, and the older boy tried to take it wherever he went, like it was some godforsaken prize that nobody could touch.

          In two years time, Tom Riddle was clearly marked on the path of growing into a very handsome young man—at the age of nine, he now sat taller than his peers, his hair was never out of place, and all the girls fawned over his aristocratic features.

         Harry, on the other hand…

         “Tom! What do you think we’ll find?” Harry whispered beside him, hardly able to contain his excitement about the day ahead. Ever since Mrs. Cole had announced a seaside trip to the beach, the boy had fantasized nonstop about finding some sort of treasure and exploring the area; Tom held no such interest, but if his special friend wanted this, he was willing to spend some time out of the day to entertain him.

         Tom looked over the boy and sighed— his hair was still messy, no matter how many times Tom had tried to comb it. Harry was small for his age too, and the meagre rations at Wool’s was hardly enough to keep the boy growing. Tom had even stolen food for the boy on occasion, but it seemed that too was not enough.

         “I don’t know. Rocks?” Tom answered the question sarcastically, which made Harry pout.

         For two years now, Tom had kept Harry close to him, closer than he had ever anticipated the boy to be. Tom had also kept his promise to Harry, after two years, and had not done anything to Billy Stubbs ever since.

         But just because Tom did not lift a finger to harm the boy _specifically_ , didn’t mean he minded setting his pet snake upon the boy at night, or making hot soup fall all over his lap. To his credit, even Harry didn’t notice anything odd, and had fallen happily back into their strange routine of friendship. As for Billy, he soon learned not to touch Tom’s things after a particularly nasty fall down the stairs.

         Harry had also learned some moderate control over his powers, although the boy was still lacking in certain areas. Namely, Tom had wanted to teach Harry the importance of _power_ , and for the boy to use his powers like Tom did. But Harry only ever liked to do _innocent_ things with his gift, like make the flowers bloom or float his playing ball back to him. No matter what harsh things Tom had tried to teach him, no matter the lessons on the cold truth of reality, Harry was far too kind for his own good.

         It made Tom wonder, on more than one occasion, just how they were connected; for all the things Tom enjoyed, like hurting the weak, or stomping the life out of the local bird population, Harry was almost his perfect contrast— Harry, with his love for all things, wouldn’t even kill a fly.

         Besides this, their strange connection had also grown, if only on Tom’s part—whenever Tom was certain that Harry was asleep, he would lay down beside him and caress his scar. It was an undeniably strange feeling, like pleasant, electric currents racing through his body at the touch, connecting him more and more to Harry; Tom had no idea if Harry felt it too, but he was certain the boy felt _something_ if his tiny whimpers and increased breathing were anything to go by….

* * *

 

         An hour later, they arrived at their destination. Tom smirked when Harry’s immediate reaction to the ‘beach’ was overwhelming disappointment. Of course, who wouldn’t be? There was hardly any sand; most of the beach was filled with jagged rocks and cold, dead grass. The wind had picked up by now, and the sun hid behind the clouds, meaning the water would be freezing. Any hopes the boy had of making sandcastles and sitting in the sun were quickly dashed.

          “Well, children, go out and play. Mrs. Cole and I will be over here.” Martha said, once they all piled out of the bus.

          “And don’t go too far.” the stern woman added, “If I catch anyone out of bounds, they are to do twice the number of chores for the next month. Understood?”

          No one needed to be told twice. Tom and Harry quickly walked down to the shore, and soon enough everyone from the orphanage was playing on one side of the beach, while Tom and Harry sat far away on the other.

          “So what do you want to do?” Harry asked, used to their treatment by the other orphans, “I don’t think we’re going to find anything here…” he kicked at the available sand with a gloomy face.

          “I suppose …” Tom deliberately trailed off, knowing when to stop to catch Harry’s interest. Predictably, the smaller boy looked up hopefully— and didn’t Tom just love it, when Harry worshiped him so?

          “I suppose we could go looking for treasure. Is that not what you wanted to do?”

          “Yes, but I don’t see anything—”

          “I mean over there.” Tom pointed down the shoreline, away from the group and down to where the rocks looked large and infinitely more dangerous.

          “But we can’t go down there! Mrs. Cole said...and we’ll trip or—!”

          “We'll use our powers, isn’t it obvious? We won’t fall.”

          When Harry still looked doubtful, Tom sighed and held out his hand;

          “Come Harry, don’t you trust me?” he said,  

          And it was such a fragile moment in time, such an innocent display of trust that Tom would always remember the second when Harry smiled, then slowly reached out and took his hand. He would remember how Harry’s messy hair had whipped in the wind, how the boy’s glasses fogged with embarrassment at holding hands on a beach. He would always remember climbing the rocks, slowly on uneven feet, and even finding a wonderful cave that took away his very breath.

          He would remember the way the light hit Harry’s eyes, green upon green, and how Tom thought he looked beautiful in the backdrop of the lake.

          Yes, Tom would remember that day as the day his feelings changed...and because the next time they went to the beach, Tom would make a near fatal mistake…and Harry would pay the price....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the waiting, here is another chapter :)


	9. Chapter 9

          Not for the first time, Tom wondered about his special friend’s past. It wasn’t as though the boy was exactly forthcoming with information about his old home. At times, Tom had to pry for little facts here and there, on their way to school, or in an idle chat before bed. But it was always very vague, and Tom had never put too much thought into Harry’s past besides; now that he was with Tom, in his opinion, the boy’s past did not matter too much.

          But still Harry’s earlier life kept creeping up on Tom unexpectedly, so much so that Tom would have grown irritated if the boy’s claims had not been so ridiculous. When Harry had first come to him, all those years ago, Tom remembered quite well how Harry would make strange comments about perfectly ordinary things. Such as other people's clothes, or how all the cars looked funny to him. But as time passed, Harry slowly stopped commenting on these things. And besides, Harry was nearing ten years old, and in Tom’s opinion, much too old to be having fantasies about impossible things (like it was _clearly_ impossible for one family to own three televisions, no matter what the boy said).

          Now, Tom had put up with Harry’s strange quirks for years, but one day nearing Christmas, Harry’s imagination went one step too far, infringing on Tom’s reputation in school. Harry was typically quiet in class, which suited him just fine— but the first time Harry decided to raise his hand, was the day he became the laughingstock of the school. And all because of some silly fantasy the boy had in his head.

          “Yes Harry?” the teacher prompted and looked quite eager to have the boy asking questions. Even Tom was intrigued as to what he would say.

          But then he uttered something so absurd that Tom inwardly groaned, because he knew what was coming.

          “Haven’t people already been to the moon?”

          And the class had burst into unreserved laughter. Even the teacher looked bewildered, quickly giving the boy a resolute “no”, before trying to calm the class.

          “But I remember…” Harry started, before Tom kicked the boy from underneath his chair. When the laughter died down, the teacher evidently gave Harry a detention for causing trouble in class, and his friend looked about ready to cry.

         And Tom thought that was the end of it. But no. Two days later, Tom had clearly underestimated his friend’s stubbornness. Two days, and Harry was still trying to convince Tom of this wild theory.

          “People have already been to the moon, Tom! I've read about it! I’ve _seen_ it!” Harry claimed for the umpteenth time.

          “And where did you see it again? Oh right, it must have been on one of your numerous televisions.”

          “Yes! I mean no! I mean—Tooom!” Harry yelled in frustration, his voice growing into a whine that made Tom growl. He knew what the boy was doing. Whenever Harry was upset, Tom would always give in. _Always._ It was a weak point Tom had thought to get rid of, but whenever he tried to do so, he would get thoughts that perhaps he didn’t want to. Now, however…

          “Harry.” Tom narrowed his eyes in warning, pushing his friend who had attached to his arm onto the bed,

          “Tom.” Harry returned, failing to look even remotely like a threat because he was hanging upside down.

           He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Where did he go wrong? No, wait, _he_ didn’t go wrong. It was surely Harry…the boy was a bubbling ball of energy that nobody, not even Tom, could contain. It wasn’t _his_ fault. Because Tom was perfect.

          “Harry,” he warned again, this time completely serious, “No humans have ever gone to the moon, and no one is _ever_ going to the moon. Accept the facts.”

           Harry’s smile slipped away, and with a cry he fell down from his perch on the bed. The lighthearted mood turned sour when Harry got up, adjusting his glasses stiffly.

          “Fine,” he grumbled, “But the next time you want to me to believe in you, when everyone else doesn’t, don’t count on it.”

          And with a lasting look that made Tom’s heart stop, Harry ran out of the room before he could say anything. He didn't know why, but for once, Tom did not follow. 

* * *

          Harry was in tears by the time he ran into Amy. He tried to push past her in the hallway, but she timidly grabbed his arm just as he was about to escape.

          “H-Harry? What’s wrong?” she whispered, then more quietly, “Was it…Tom?” she asked, her eyes wide, looking both ways to see if the other was around. Perhaps it was his mood, or perhaps it was because Harry was alone for once, but at her words he broke down crying, crumpling into a heap on the floor. And Amy was right beside him, worried and scared. 

          He knew the entire situation was stupid. It wasn't even that he was mad at Tom for not believing him. He was just so confused, and he wanted Tom to understand. And he was so tired of Tom being— well, what? _Tom?_  

          Harry loved his friend. Without him, Harry surely would have been bullied by the older children; he would have been _that_ boy again, that strange, too baggy clothes Harry that everyone always hated. Tom protected him, even if he was cruel in his ways. Tom was his friend, his first friend in his life, and Harry knew Tom well enough to know that his friend cared, even if he rarely showed it. 

          No, he was just tired of how Tom would never listen to him. How Tom was always right, and Harry was always wrong. And the way he treated Harry too, as if no one else was allowed to talk to him! For two years Harry had put up with only playing  and talking with Tom…he had put up with all the fear and hatred from the other orphans, but he desperately wanted more; he would always watch the other kids with envious eyes, wanting to play with them, but not wanting to anger Tom as well. Harry didn’t want to be caged, in a box, with only Tom to know for the rest of his life. He wanted to see the world someday, and that meant seeing other people too.

          Truthfully, Harry just wanted someone else he could confide in at times, someone _other_ than Tom, for once. And sitting there on the floor, crying, with Amy slowly leading him back to her room, he thought maybe, just maybe, she could be his friend too….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is so late, I was busy, hope you like, and I hope to get the orphanage time over soon, then a bit of a time skip to start at Hogwarts.


	10. Chapter 10

          If Tom was suspicious over his friend’s behavior, he didn’t show it. When Harry returned after their small fight, the boy had simply laid down to sleep with a mumbled ‘sorry’ into his pillow before drifting off. But he had seen Harry’s eyes, red and swollen behind his glasses, which meant tears had been spilled, and where exactly did Harry go for the nearly two hours since Tom had left him alone?

          Perhaps, if it were just that, Tom would have let the matter slide, but in the following days after Harry began a certain…routine, where he would slip behind Tom’s ever watchful eye with some pathetic enough excuse like the bathroom or a sudden need for fresh air.

          At first, Tom had decided to keep matters civilized, letting his special friend do whatever it was that was so important that he needed to deceive Tom in order to do it. But he wasn’t a fool, and after several more days of Harry’s lame excuses, he spotted the little liar through the upstairs window, out in the fields playing ball with some of the other children.

          It wasn’t as though he didn’t suspect it. He _knew_ the boy was going _somewhere…_ but where, exactly, had always curiously left his mind when he thought upon it.

          But playing with the other orphans? The very same orphans who scorned Tom for his freakishness, who scorned _Harry_ for that very same reason…? How did it happen? _When_ did it happen?

          Now, jealousy wasn’t an emotion Tom regularly felt; why get jealous when Tom could simply take whatever it was that he wanted? But seeing _his_ special friend smiling and laughing with someone else, and now that he saw, with that blonde bimbo Amy, the emotion ripped through his chest like a beast, tore away at his insides and every spike and plunge of jealousy’s vicious hand left his heart in a tangled heap of raw bitterness. And when the feeling finally abated, a terrible fury took its place, silent and deadly, where every laugh and smile the boy made was like a stab to an already open wound.

         And wasn’t it peculiar, to watch Harry play so freely, so openly, so passionately? And why, oh why, had he never seen that expression on his face before? Had Harry always been that happy? Had his smile always been that bright?

         He waited for the boy to come back. He would deal with him then. 

* * *

          Harry decided not to tell Tom about Amy. After she found him crying in the hallway, and leading him back to her room, Harry had told her most (if not all) of his problems with Tom. And Amy had listened. He hadn't known how Amy would respond, and on some level, he didn’t care— Harry had simply wanted to vent, and Amy listened to him all the way.

         In the end, though, Harry had to beg Amy not to tell anyone, especially Tom, about their secret meeting. Because out of everything that could happen, he didn’t want Tom to misunderstand. He still liked Tom, in his own way, and he was still the first friend Harry ever had.

         But then Amy had whispered to him on his way out the door,

         “Hey Harry, do you want to play with us tomorrow?”

         He couldn't refuse. Because just like that, Harry was accepted by someone other than Tom— and he found he quite liked the feeling. So Harry played ball with Amy the next day, telling Tom a small lie to go out by himself, playing in the fields behind the orphanage. Soon after, some of the other children noticed him, and he played with them too.

         But Harry didn’t forget about Tom. And after the fifth day of playing freely and having fun, he decided to tell Tom the truth.

         He could never imagine it would go so spectacularly wrong.

* * *

         Tom sat on his bed and waited. He read a book to pass the time, but he hardly turned a page. His thoughts turned more and more vicious the longer he waited for Harry to return.

         If Tom pressed on his mind, he could feel Harry’s turbulent emotions. It was strange. He didn’t know how it was possible, but the more Tom touched Harry’s scar the more connected they became.

         Finally, _finally,_ the boy opened the door. Tom could practically feel the confession oozing off of him. Harry was going to tell him the truth. Little did he know, it was far too late for that. 

         “Hi Harry. Did you have a good walk?” Tom decided he liked playing with his food before devouring it. He didn’t look up from his book.

         “Tom, I-I have something to tell you.” the boy began slowly, walking over to his bed and sitting down. Still Tom didn’t give him the reassurance the boy desperately craved. The feelings of nervousness and anxiety were crashing over him like waves, but he coolly cut off the boy’s feelings. It surprised him to have so much control over their connection, but he would dwell on it later. Clearly Harry still knew nothing about it.

         Tom waited until Harry’s breathing grew ragged, until his nerves shot high and still, Tom said nothing. Then the boy spoke,

         “I-I haven’t been going on walks…Tom. I—”

         “Oh I know you haven’t,” he cut him off, looking up sharply. “But it’s alright Harry. Truly, it is.”

         Tom put down his book and looked at his friend. Harry was twisting his fingers into knots, his round glasses pushed up to the bridge of his nose.

         “R-Really?” the boy asked carefully, noting the tense way Tom spoke, “But aren’t you—” 

         “I said it’s fine!" he spoke with a command in his voice, and Harry jumped, "If you want to play with the others, who am I to stop you?”

         He walked slowly over to Harry, who was so startled by Tom’s apparent coolness he didn’t notice when Tom brushed his bangs aside and touched his scar.

        “But aren’t…aren’t you m-mad at me?” Harry asked dazedly, tilting his head back with Tom’s gentle touch. As Tom continued to rub his fingers against the scar, he used his powers to lull Harry into a sleep. It was deceptively easy, given the way Harry typically relaxed when Tom touched his forehead at night. Soon, the boy collapsed against him, and Tom pushed Harry to rest against the pillow. He pulled the thin blanket over his special friend.

       “Of course I’m mad, Harry. But don’t worry, you’re still my special friend. And I take care of my friends, even if they don't always agree with it.”

        The next morning, Amy Benson screamed. 


	11. Chapter 11

       Later on, Tom would vehemently deny any involvement in the killing of Billy Stubbs's rabbit. He would also deny that it had anything to do with Amy Benson, although the poor creature was found right outside her bedroom door, hanging precariously from the ceiling. It was impossible, he would say, and who could blame him?

       But the rabbit certainly didn’t hang itself, and when Tom was interrogated by a livid Mrs. Cole, he was gleeful to know that the girl was now having nightmares. In truth, Tom wasn’t quite done with Benson yet. Threatening her was one thing, but the orphanage was planning another trip to the beach, and what better way to punish her than a remote, isolated area? It was perfect.

       Harry, for his part, had slept through the entire ordeal. Tom had kept the boy asleep, and when questioned about his whereabouts, he simply told the staff that Harry wasn’t feeling too well. Nobody pursued this further, and when Tom brought up food for the boy, he let Harry wake just enough to eat his meals drowsily and then forcibly moved him back to sleep once again. Besides, Tom didn’t want to deal with Harry’s silly moral codes at the moment, and especially not when he still had so much planned.

       Yes, Tom would take Harry to the beach. He would punish Amy and anyone else who interfered. And then everything would be as it should....

* * *

       Harry didn’t know what had happened, but he missed three days. For three full days he was in a strange sort of coma, and nothing made sense during that time. He didn’t dream, but if he did, it was always to the sensation of hands pulling him down into an infinite darkness. He vaguely remembered Tom feeding him, but whenever Harry tried to get up, Tom would push him back down, and Harry would fall asleep again.

       The last thing he remembered was telling Tom about Amy. Now, now Billy's rabbit was dead, and Amy wouldn’t talk to him. Wouldn’t even look at him. 

       And Harry suspected Tom. No, he _knew_ it was Tom. Tom didn’t say anything about the rabbit when Harry woke up, merely told him that tomorrow they were going to the beach.

       For the very first time, Harry didn’t want to go to the beach.

* * *

 

       While the orphanage was packing for another trip to the sea, Harry was too busy worrying about what the trip would actually bring. He had a bad feeling, and if Billy’s rabbit was still alive, then maybe Harry would have felt better. But the rabbit was dead, and Amy wasn’t his friend anymore, and everyone was looking at him like _he_ had killed the rabbit, not Tom.

       Harry’s anxiety was proven correct when Tom caught him by the wrist on their way to the bus and told Harry to follow. It was innocent enough, except when Harry didn’t want to be anywhere near Tom, and yet he couldn’t stop his feet from following the older boy anyway. Tom had used his powers, and Harry was compelled to follow.

       “T-Tom” Harry whispered once they were seated, “What are you doing?”

       “Listen Harry, because I’m only going to say this once.” Tom said, his voice sounding cold and unusually tense, “You’re my friend, and when everything is over today, you’ll understand even more. So just be quiet and listen to what I say. I’m only telling you once.”

       And just like that, when Harry went to ask Tom what he meant, he lost his voice too. Whatever sound Harry tried to make, his voice was no longer working; taken by Tom, just like his movement.

       He would have cried, but somehow, his tears wouldn’t come. No matter how much he was screaming inside.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for late chapter, but next time we'll get to the beach, and then the orphanage part will end soon, and hopefully Hogwarts will start :)


	12. Chapter 12

          Harry was scared. Scared of not being able to move, scared of what the future would bring; scared of the way Tom was acting. The entire bus ride Harry had spent trying to break the hold Tom had over him—but by the time they got to the actual beach, Harry had no more energy left. His feet moved automatically, but Tom still grabbed Harry’s hand to help him over the larger, more dangerous rocks.

          The strangest thing was that Amy followed along behind, quiet just like Harry— it came with a sudden realization that she too was stuck in her body, moving to Tom’s will, taking them to wherever Tom saw fit.

          A little while into their journey, Harry saw that Dennis had followed Amy, and was huffing out of breath not too far behind.

          “Amy! What are you doing!” he yelled, and then came struggling up the rocks, “Leave them! They’re both freaks, just let them go!”

          When Amy didn’t answer and she kept moving, the Dennis boy kept following.

          Harry sucked in a breath when he realized where Tom was leading them to— the cave. The special cave both he and Tom had found together the last time they were here.

          It pained him that Tom was ruining their special cave for— what, exactly? Harry wasn’t sure, even at this point, what Tom had planned once they reached it. Waves of anxiety crashed over him as his feet moved onward and onward, no matter how much Tom rubbed his hand over Harry’s, or whispered soothing words, trying to ease him into a false sense of calm. It was like watching a storm, the way the sky would build up with clouds before anything truly happened. And Harry could only watch as it all unfolded.

          By the time they reached the cave, Harry was flushed and worn. Amy looked no better, her pigtails all askew and her cheeks a dark pink from exhaustion. Dennis came crawling up inside moments later, heaving and out of breath. Tom Riddle looked just like he always did, with the exception of his eyes. His eyes were alight, and Harry could honestly say, even despite all the times Tom had been cruel in the past, his eyes had never looked so dangerous and threatening.

          Tom pushed Harry against the far wall and told him to stay, a task that was nearly impossible to fight against with the overwhelming influence of Tom’s powers. Amy was brought to her knees, while she cried in silence. Dennis was looking on in confusion, before Tom turned his attention to him.

          “Would you like to join her? I don’t see a point in letting you go now. Besides, I’d like to see how far my powers can reach.”

          And just like that, with a shout of surprise, Dennis walked forward and collapsed to his knees in front of Tom, terror written all over his face.

          “S-stop it T-Tom …” Harry whispered, finally breaking free of the silence Tom had put over him. Tom didn’t hear, and in turn, Harry couldn’t hear the words Tom was saying, softly and whispered in Amy’s ear. Then, the girl was screaming, twisting into angles Harry didn’t even think possible, and her voice echoed all around the cave, so loud and piercing, he was sure that Amy was dying the longer she screamed.

          Something in Harry snapped at that, and his heart gave a powerful lurch as his body broke free of Tom’s command. He felt something surround him, a crackling of electric fire as he shouted, 

          “STOP IT TOM!”

          And Harry ran into Tom, pushing him hard to the ground.

          The ensuing fight lasted all but three seconds as Tom gave a great shout and threw Harry off and against the wall; and with a resounding crack, his head hit the rock, and Harry knew no more.

* * *

 

          Tom didn’t know what he had done until he had done it. One moment he had been punishing Benson, the girl screaming herself hoarse, and the next moment Harry was on the ground, bleeding profusely from the head.

          Any further thoughts of torturing flew from his mind. In fact, Tom was quite certain his heart had stopped. When Harry didn’t move, even twitch, a scream, a painful, agonizing sound, clawed its way through his throat as he tore himself over to where Harry lay.

          It didn’t look good. From a distance, Tom could pretend that the wound didn’t exist. Up close, Harry’s hair was wet, the blood was flowing fast, and Tom didn’t know how to stop it.

          For the first time in his life, Tom was scared. Death had always been his biggest fear, but now that it crept so close, now that Harry was in imminent danger, everything was put into perspective of how fragile their lives truly were. His thoughts became a jumbled mess, and the longer the seconds ticked by, seconds that he knew were precious, his mind ceased to form any coherent thought.

          _He couldn’t die, couldn’t die, couldn’t die—_

         Would his powers even work? He had never healed _anything_ before, so how could he do it now? What if he failed? What if Harry _died?_ What if—

_No. No! It wasn’t supposed to be like this. This wasn’t supposed to happen._

          Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, and the Dennis boy was creeping slowly out of the cave. Benson still lay on the ground, sobbing.

           Damn it! Damn it! He didn’t have time to deal with them. Harry needed his help. He closed his eyes against his torrent of thoughts, and wished, more than he had ever wished for anything before, for Harry to heal. He focused so strongly, he didn’t notice how Dennis started choking on the air when he came too close, or the oppressive feeling that descended upon the cave like a dark cloud originating from Tom’s form.

          Heal, heal, heal, _heal...._

          After a particularly strong burst of power surged through him, he slowly opened his eyes, only to find himself and Harry back on the beach, in sight of Mrs. Cole and the other orphanage children.

          He noted that his powers had healed the wound somewhat, and Harry wasn’t bleeding as openly as before. Still, Harry needed professional help, and although Tom was loathe to admit it, he couldn’t heal Harry on his own.

          He called over the Matron, and soon enough there was a flurry of panic and activity as Tom told the story of how Harry had tripped and hit his head on the rocks. She scolded Tom, of course, but he didn’t care.

          There was another small panic as the staff realized both Amy and Dennis were missing, but after a few more minutes of waiting they spotted them among the crowd, both children as white as a sheet. And no matter how many times Mrs. Cole tried to get them to speak, they wouldn’t say a word.

          After an agonizing journey back, with Harry’s head wrapped in a tight cloth, they took the boy to the hospital as soon as they got back.  

          Mrs. Cole assured him that Harry would be fine with proper treatment and sent Tom back to his room. 

          That night, Tom went to bed alone, much in thought.


End file.
